IT'S CIRCLED IN his map and apparently the informant is correct. But even if it wasn't in his map, Jared could scarcely miss the beacon of garish neon lights in a little cove in the winding mountain road. Jared pulls into the parking lot and finds a parking spot at the end of a row of dusty, local looking pickup trucks and cars.
As he parks, Jared checks his image in the rear view mirror. His handsome face is well barbered and framed by the kind of style you only get with a hundred dollar big city hair styling. When he gets out of his car, Jared stretches his lean but muscular six foot six inch body. He then carefully extracts his sports coat from the hanger behind the driver's seat and puts it on. A quick check of his expensive clothes and Jared is ready. As always he thinks: Here I come, you lucky lady! Ego can be a weapon and Jared uses the weapon well.
As he strolls over to the entrance a bit of worry gnaws at the back of Jared’s mind. It's been a while since he's snared a live one, quite a while. The Boss is getting a bit edgy. It'll be well if he finds what he's looking for tonight.
As he walks into the place, Jared sees the tall, slim, beautiful blonde lady who's his target. She's currently completely surrounded by local hopefuls, but Jared knows how to handle that.
He finds a space down at the other end of the bar and orders a name brand double bourbon, instead of his usual single malt scotch since the place isn't the kind of bar that stocks fancy scotch.
As he gazes about the room, Jared is the only man in the place wearing a sport coat, the rest of the men wear the usual cowboy chic. Of course, Jared stands out. This is exactly what Jared has planned.
It's not too long before someone mentions the fact of Jared’s clothing.
Jared, feigning a bit of whiskey-fueled bravado says, “I may have to sell to hicks, but I don’t have to dress like one!” His comment has no more impact than tossing a bucket of gasoline into a fire.